Quit believing the lies

Quit believing the lies you all tell yourselves to justify the torture I am in.  My brother called today and asked, "don't you feel better now that you are on medication."  HELL FUCK NO!!!!  I am in sheer hell.  I want to pound the walls and curse out my misery and my pain, while no doubt my mom and her dumbass, ignorant husband all nod about how "good" I am doing.  Well, I am a vegetable who is fighting to hold on to to her humanity, and quite unsuccessfully I might add.  It hurts to type.  I have chronic back muscle spasms.  Walking a mile is like climbing to 12,000 feet on a mountain hike.  I am sick of being in pain.  I feel like a picture I saw of Michael J Fox--suffering agony all over his face as he fights to retain his humanity against the neurological damage being done to his brain.  I notice that I am getting permanent deep furrows in my brow from the constant pain I suffer from the excess cerebrospinal fluid in my brain.  I want sometimes to blow my brains out, knowing that the neurological damage I suffer is from inflicted poison. 

Then there is the emotional agony--not being able to interact with people--not having the love of life and joy and spirit I normally do. 

The worst though is the mental agony--trying to remember something--like what I did yesterday, and not being able to remember it all.  The humiliation of groping for a word when I used to have an entire word selection at my instant recall.  The inability to read a book, and remember what I am reading.  My reading is painfully slow--partly because my visual field is so compromised by these drugs, but even more scary (my God, I can't think of the appropriate word I want) is the way that I can't comprehend what I read, and I can't absorb what I read.  I can't tell you what I read yesterday from  the book.  Normally when I read, the ideas go into a very active file, and they just percolate all around while I ponder them.  Now my mind is a total blank, unable to receive any impression or creatively think on them.  I realized that tonight when the book prompted me to think on my dreams.  I used to have 3 or 4 of my most recent dreams percolating in my head at all times, until I satisfied myself that I had interpreted them correctly.  Now I cannot remember what I dreamed last night or the night before.  This is particularly scary because I had really tried to remember and interpret the dream from two nights ago, and EVERYTHING is gone--one image remains--and I can't even remember what I had postulated for it.   It is like my once incredible ability to absorb data and ideas with ease, almost osmotically, and then to creatively reflect on them, is totally gone.  Everything takes abnormal effort and work.  I am like a sixth grader in my reading ability, and an Alzheimer's patient in my ability to retain and ponder what I read.   My mind is just zeroed out.  I am a zombie--unable to feel, unable to think, unable to relate.  Surprisingly though, I have no trouble going into a fantasy world, and to be honest, the fantasy world is getting to be a better place than the real one. 

I try to hold on to my faith, but I cannot pray.  Everything that I use to pray--my heart, soul, my sense of awe, reverance, gratitude, wonder, love and joy, is all gone.  I have faith deep down inside, and it is up to God whether or not to save me, or leave me a miserable vegetable who hates every second of my life, and agonizes painfully to retain my humanity when the drugs create nothing but pain, suffering, and a sense of being subhuman